


Lily

by Ladycat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Established Relationship, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:45:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone was singing. He’d always thought it was a horrible way of commemorating someone’s life, but now it felt right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lily

“You’d think I’d be used to a solid sea of black by now.”

Spike didn’t bother looking up from his bouquet of flowers. He knew what he’d see, and the graceful arch and curve that led to delicate fluting far more interesting to him. Calla lilies, gradations of color shading from almost translucent cream to the buttery yellow of a summer sun. No pinks or reds in this bunch, Spike had made certain of that. It wasn’t appropriate. He had to be careful not to crush the stem too tightly, afraid of spilling green blood to mix with all the red on his hands.

Someone was singing. He’d always thought it was a horrible way of commemorating someone’s life, but now it felt right. It fit, the lilting fall and rise of a woman’s voice an audible match to the flowers that trembled in his grip. The words weren’t english, but Spike was all right with that. The foreign language, full of gutturals that should have made the words harsh but didn’t, felt soothing, the way Latin chants never had when he was a child.

“Spike, come on, put them down, now.” Xander’s hand appeared in Spike’s field of vision, curving over white knuckles to share warmth and love. Always love, with this one. It made him ache, sometimes, to see how much he had to lose—but as always, Xander seemed to know that. One dark eye ducked down until Spike was forced to meet it and remember—again—that it was worth it. Xander made it worth it. “It’s time to go.”

He paced forward, gently placing the lilies over the tiny grave. He’d come back later and plant more, so they’d always be here. So his undying memory would never forget.

“Can we go?” Buffy whined. “I hate this dress, but it’s all I had that was black on such short notice.”

“Hush, Buffy,” Willow’s girlfriend, Rebecca chastised softly. Her voice was slightly hoarse from singing, but Spike didn’t think she minded. This one would last, he’d thought the first time he saw her and continued to think two years later. Rebecca had the quiet softness Tara had had, the understanding that Willow so often needed. She wasn’t Tara, though, and that, too, made her perfect. “Let him grieve.”

Buffy huffed, put-upon, but when she spoke her words were soft and fond. “I don’t see what the big deal is, really. I mean, they can always go out and get another one.”

All members of the funeral party froze, then turned to give Buffy a glare that should have slain her on the spot. Dawn had lost the china-doll perfection over the years, but she could still out-brat her sister any day. Stepping forward now, she yanked Buffy’s arm and began herding her into the house. “‘They can always get another one’. Jeez, Buffy! I know you’re an insensitive jerk sometimes—”

“Hey!”

“—but really!”

Spike wiped his hands clean and leaned back, unsurprised when Xander slipped his body into the appropriate space immediately. Strong arms held him tight, warmth burning through him until it was hard to think straight. Xander always did that to him.

“So,” he said slowly. “How about we get something a bit manlier this time? I saw an akida down at the shelter, a few days back.”

“Spike! We are not getting an akida two days after burying our sheltie! Give Shadow some respect!”

“I am, you nit.” Turning, they made their way back to the house, the rest of the funeral procession joining them in the sea of black Xander had aptly identified before. “I’m respecting him by not allowing his memory to be tarnished by whatever girlie dog I know you want to get. No poodles, Xander. We are not _that_ gay!”

Fortunately, none of their guests commented when Xander yanked Spike against the wall and began kissing him. “Yeah,” he breathed, lips wet and swollen as they moved against Spike’s. “We really are. But we’re still not getting an akida.”

“How about a pit bull then?”

“No.” Kiss.

“Rottweiler?”

“No, Spike.” Kiss.

His voice was getting weaker and there were chuckles coming from the house. Spike made a note to kill them, later. “Doberman?”

Long, long kiss, Xander grinning even as his tongue did _that_ thing that never failed to drive any coherent thought from Spike’s head. “We’ll talk about this later, Spike.”

Instantly, several anxious people cried, “No sex until we’re gone!”


End file.
